Genie In A Shoebox
by The Silent Dreamcatcher
Summary: A thoughtless life of work, eat, sleep. That was it for Kisame, life had nothing more to offer, or so he thought. One day a mysterious stranger gifted him a box with unknown contents in the dead of night. A box that could change everything and save him. But magic only works if you believe.
1. Prologue

Genie in a Shoebox.

Prologue.

The sharp sound of the machine's whistle ended the workday for Hoshigaki Kisame, the assembly-line came to a stop and countless workers left their positions and filed into the changing rooms. They were identical, same faded blue overalls, matted hair and wrinkled skin from the toxic factory fumes. Many of them were sporting a bad cough, and in order they undressed, showered quickly, and re-dressed in their own attire. Their tired eyes didn't even bother taking in how their own clothes were even shabbier than the uniforms, there was no room or energy for mindless conversations, so each kept their thoughts to themselves.

Kisame sighed as he took in his own appearance in one of the closed shop windows he walked past on his way home; his chocolate brown skin had an unhealthy grey gleam to it and his thick black locks were starting to thin. Not wanting to throw himself into another bout of depression he walked on towards his cheap and bare apartment. Working a 16-hour shift 7 days a week did that to a man, and even though he was only 35 years of age, he felt as worn and tired as an elderly. His job didn't pay worth the effort, and a great deal of what he did own went to his ex-wife for alimony.

He'd wanted to help raise the kid, but he had to work this job to sustain them, and in the end she left him for becoming too distant and occupied for her to bear. He wasn't occupied, he was drained of all strength and the smallest physical effort caused him pain but he wasn't occupied. He just didn't have enough power to fuel his mind long enough to get lost in any thought really. Why she needed alimony he didn't know, she got herself hooked on a businessman of sorts, but it left him with nothing.

He owned a filthy mattress, some sheets and a microwave. No shower, he had to wash himself in the sink, though that was unnecessary with the toxic-waste removal showers he took at work anyway. Kisame stumbled his way up the rusty metal stairs that lead to his front door and somehow found the strength to turn the key in the lock. He could practically _hear_ his bones creaking with fatigue while he forced himself to eat some bread instead of falling into a dreamless sleep upon arrival. If he didn't eat now he wouldn't be able to get up in the morning at all.

This time, when he fell onto his bed, he did dream. Soft music filled the black abyss of his dream world, growing in volume until he hád to wake up. But the music was all too real, an eerie carnival tune sounded from right outside his door, a bit too slow to feel right, as if someone wasn't turning the wheel on a barrel organ fast enough. Bright light flooded through the keyhole and for a moment the music stopped.  
Someone knocked on the door.

As If in a trance he slowly stood and walked towards the door. Slowly he opened it and was met by impenetrable darkness and silence. A hissing sound reached his ears and then a voice spoke, as if it was only in his head. "I have _ssssssssomething_ for you _sssssssssssweet_ child. _Sssssssstep _up and claim it." At these words two pale arms reached out towards him, holding in their hands a small box. Dumbfounded, Kisame took the box and made his way back inside. He closed the door, dropped the box where he stood and crawled back into bed.

It was only a dream after all.


	2. Chapter One

Genie In A Shoebox.

Chapter One.

Kisame woke with a groan, he had no window or clock to indicate time, but his biological clock told him it was about time to get up for work. He threw his sheet off and got up, grateful that he'd remembered to eat something the night before. He pulled on of the two pairs of faded jeans he kept in a cardboard storage box next to his bed, and then did the same for a shirt. Somehow he kept losing his socks though, so they didn't match in color but at least his feet were warm now.  
Thankfully it was summer, since the apartment's temperature dropped considerably in winter and he'd have to sleep fully clothed, now he had two identical outfits to choose from.

He moved to the kitchen area on shaky legs, coffee, sweet nectar of the gods, he needed it. He put a cup of water in the microwave and scraped the plastic spoon along the bottom of the tin can he kept his instant coffee in. It was a present from a long lost friend and since the air in his home was always somewhat humid this was a good place to keep it dry. For a few minutes he did nothing but stare at the stone mug that was slowly turning around inside the machine, and listened to the way the old thing wheezed and croaked while it worked.

A squeaky 'ping!' brought him back to earth; he opened the small door and was met by his daily dose of hot steam. Unfazed he reached into the small device and took out the now steaming mug, years of manual labor had coated his hands with callus so the handle didn't burn his fingers anymore. He scraped out what was left in the can and used the same spoon to stir his drink, dropping it into the sink afterwards. He was going to have to use his lunch break to buy some more, since work started before the shops opened and ended after they'd closed again. He closed the can and put it back in the corner of the counter, the few grains of rice left in it rattled faintly.

He sank down onto the cheap linoleum floor and rested his back against the counter, why had he picked this hideous orange-while tile design again? Oh yes, Konan picked it because it matched the also hideously orange stove… the stove she took with her when she left. Sometimes that woman really baffled him. She wanted the couch, fine; he'd sit on his bed. She wanted the tv, fine; he was too tired to watch the lightbox near every day anyway. She wanted the curtains, also fine; he went to sleep after dark. She wanted almost everything for 'giving up the best years of her life and putting her everything into creating a heaven for her husband that did nothing to repay her, but instead kept making her life miserable'. Never mind the fact that he paid for everything and worked himself half to death to do so.

He sipped the dark liquid, sighing contently at the warmth that spread through him, only then waking up properly. Blinking his eyes he noticed something out of place, a box about the size of his hand lay discarded by the door. Suddenly he remembered what had happened the night before, it hadn't been a dream? The box was black and the lid was a deep purple, it had fallen off when it'd hit the ground where he dropped it. The box had fallen sideways, facing away from him. The shape suggested it was a shoebox, curiosity, something he hadn't felt in ages, got the better of him and he downed the rest of his coffee before cautiously crawling over to the thing. It was just a box, nothing to fear… maybe there was a small wounded animal inside? His son used to bring these home all the time. But those arms, no live person could be so pale.

Using one finger in case it would bite him he tipped the box upright. Inside there was something wrapped in a soft velvet cloth. Not an animal it seemed, that was a small relief.  
Still a bit unnerved about the whole dreamlike experience he slowly pulled the cloth away.

At seeing the familiar object his breath left him in a shock, before a gigantic flood of forgotten memories crashed into him like a hurricane. Hesitant yet greedy kisses, butterfly touches and whispered promises ghosted over his skin while a massive weight of guilt settled into his stomach for ever forgetting, for every promise broken.

A high heeled shoe sat innocently in its tomb, its lacquer as red as its owners sinfully plump lips, an embodiment of everything hidden and forbidden. Suddenly Kisame felt nauseous, he forcefully shoved the box and everything it stood for away. He stumbled to his empty bathroom and threw himself over the toilet, hurling up all he had in his stomach. He then crawled into the corner the light didn't reach, and cried.

He'd been strong through his horror of a marriage, and then the ugly divorce and his lonely, empty and pointless life after that. He hadn't cried, not in years. But now, now the memories he'd tried so long and worked so hard to forget were all coming back to him. Every heartbeat hurt, it reminded him of the pulse he'd felt when holding those warm ivory hands. Every breath he took burned him down, like the hot breath in his neck and on his face had always set him on fire. His tears tracked over his face as icy cold as the fear he'd felt every day the lithe figure waited for him in one of the shady alleys around his home. He told him time and time again to stay away, not to bother with him.

But still he showed, held his hand, and plagued his dreams every night. It was sweet torture, torture he wanted to end but never really wanted to end. His name… what was his name? For six years he confided in the kid every night, that was what he was back then, still a kid no older than sixteen. He could remember the way he would always wear puffy red skirts and black fishnet stockings, probably the only prostitute in the world with not a rip in his stockings to be found. And he could also remember how the kid would always wear red corset-like tops with black lace around the edges, and how he would let the older man warm his cold, calloused hands on his flat, warm stomach. And no one could ever have such a soft, flawless pale skin. But he couldn't remember his name. That wasn't really that odd though, they met fourteen years ago and he hadn't seen him in eight.

He did remember the day they met. He sighed and wiped off his face while a small smile managed to work its way to his lips at this memory.

* * *

"You want some company, mister?" Kisame looked up. He'd decided to escape his wife for a while that night and get himself a drink, only to realize that he couldn't even afford a beer. Now he sat in the dark alley across from the laughter, songs and music, slumped over and thinking of nothing. In front of him stood a young… man? Woman? It wore a skirt but didn't have the shapely figure women usually have and because his back faced the light he couldn't really discern. "Well do you?" He caught himself gaping and nervously stood. "Uhm… I, I don't have any money or anything…" It chuckled and placed a black, gloved hand on his arm. "Who said my company would cost you anything? You seemed a bit down and I thought maybe you'd like to talk? I've been told that I'm a good listener."

Kisame gave him a jerky nod and slumped back down against the filthy wall he'd been sitting earlier. "Umm…" the other didn't sit down though, so he took off his coat and spread it out on the ground beside him. "This way your pretty skirt won't get dirty… and stuff." The young man sat down with a giggle, he could tell because the bright pink neon light from the bar lit up his face now that he'd turned around. But even for a guy… he was more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen. The guy looked at him curiously for a bit, even if he hadn't told him that he hadn't any money his appearance would have told him either way. Faded jeans, greyish, stained t-shirt and shoes so worn the soles were coming off. He plucked at the coat a bit, the soft inside was flattened and started tearing at places, but it kept the puddle of water under it at bay well enough so his expensive clothing was still fine.

"So…" he spoke in a silky smooth voice while he scooted closer and put his head on Kisame's shoulder, "Why are you so sad? Tell little old me all that's bothering you, I've got time." At this he smiled softly and somehow, someway, it made him feel better. And so he ranted. About his job, his wife, his kid and that stupid guy Morris who ate his sandwich today. Then about his past, his life and how he had no hope in the future at all. He didn't know how it happened, but somehow trusting this person that he didn't even know with his most deep and personal problems and feelings made him feel better. And the young man didn't say anything at all. He just let him talk. And when he got everything off his chest they just sat there, him slumped against the wall and feeling much lighter, the other with his legs pulled up to his chest on the bigger guy's coat and his head on the other's shoulder still.

His eyes were closed and his breath even… maybe he'd fallen asleep during the story, but Kisame didn't mind, his presence was soothing somehow. But, as always, all good things must come to an end. And he really needed to get home, he was later than usual already and Konan would fry him if he stayed out any longer. "Hey." Hesitantly he touched a naked shoulder, finding the skin as smooth as its owner's voice. "Hey umm… I should go, and stuff." The young man's eyes opened and he sat up with a sigh, apparently not having been asleep after all. Then he stood, stretched himself like a cat, and shook his waist long black curls loose. They'd gotten a little flattened after lying on them.

"Well then mister Hoshigaki, same time tomorrow?" Kisame, still sitting down, looked at him a bit puzzled. "Why would you want to see me again?" "Why wouldn't I? I find you… interesting. So, what do you say?" Kisame never really stood a chance though, once he looked in those big black hopeful pools some people might call eyes he was hooked. And so he nodded. "Okay!" He put two fingers to his forehead and saluted before turning and walking away. Suddenly remembering something Kisame scrambled up and grabbed his companions arm to stop him from walking away. "Wait!"

At the others questioning look he quickly let go and nervously rubbed the back of his head, not looking at him. "I just… What's your name?" the young man let out a laugh and twirled a lock of hair around his finger. "My stage name is frills, because of the skirt and all. But you can call me Itachi." And with that he was gone.

* * *

Itachi, that was the name. A sneaky little weasel he was, working his way into his head like that. The next day at work he couldn't focus at all, all he could think of was how the flat black ballerina's he wore on his feet didn't fit the rest of his attire and that he should get some nice red heels. And after a few weeks in which they met every night at the same time across from the bar he actually mustered the courage to go to a ladies-shoe store, again during his lunch break, and bought the most expensive pair of red lacquer high heels he could afford. From that day forth Itachi wore the new shoes every day. Always making sure they were in prime condition with not a spec of dirt on them. He tried asking him once why they meant so much to him, but didn't get much besides evasive answers that usually led to him talking all night instead. That's how it always was. He would talk and the young beauty would listen, and after six years he probably knew him better than Kisame knew himself. And yet he knew next to nothing about him. His age, name and occupation. What a shitty friend he'd been.

Never had he asked how Itachi was feeling, how his home situation was, why he became a prostitute. And mostly, why he stuck around such a depressive, world-weary person like him while someone like him could probably charm any man in the world. He asked him that question all the time, but he never got an answer.  
But that was all in the past now. So suddenly it was over, and it was entirely his fault.

Slowly he stood and wobbled to the sink, he needed to rinse his mouth; the sour taste was making him nauseous still. Above the sink was a mirror, and for the first time he looked at himself, really looked. He was worn, nothing but a shell of what he once was. What happened to Kisame the popular high school football-hero? Kisame the stunner who got scouted by a modeling agency once? Nothing was left of that person, he was a painting someone took on with a big fat brush and wiped it out with turpentine. Only vague shapes were left of it. And it happened in such a short while, sometime between finding out his girlfriend was pregnant when he was trying to break up with her when he was twenty and ready to start his life, and less than a year after that.

He used to have thick, enviable dreads that stood for most of his free persona. But now his hair was matted, too thin and lifeless to even be shaped in any form anymore. His skin had gotten looser with age, and though he was still relatively young there were hard lines around his mouth and eyes. The rebellious shark gill tattoos below his eyes didn't fit him anymore; they were nothing but a painful reminder of what he once was, of the life he lost.

The only time when he didn't feel this way was when he was with Itachi, the pale youngster liked his tattoos. And when Kisame was too tired to talk or protest he would run his slender fingers over them for ages, stretching them this way and that, entertaining himself with nothing. He hated his rough hands but Itachi liked how big they were. He hated how his muscles still showed strength he didn't possess anymore, but Itachi didn't mind if he wasn't strong, as long as he was big enough to envelop him and provide the warmth his skimpy little outfits couldn't on cold winter nights. He hated how his deep tenor voice had lost its might and gotten raspy, but Itachi said he loved listening to him speak. And bit by bit he regained some of his self-confidence.

And after a while he didn't feel so bad anymore, the one person that mattered didn't mind his flaws, embraced them even. So why should he feel bad about them then? And when he stopped caring things changed, days became easier. His mind-numbing work couldn't damp his spirits, because he spent all his time in the factory making plans for the evening. What he was going to say, how he would act, what coat he should bring. If it was raining he would bring a second one because Itachi only seemed to be in possession of clothing that covered only the bare minimum. If it was cold he would get to hold him again, he always liked that, it was almost like being with someone that loved him.

And then he would go home, Konan would already be asleep so she wouldn't bother him and he'd get a good night sleep. Sometimes Suigetsu, his son, would still be up and he would read the boy a story or play together with the red fire truck he gave the kid for his second birthday. He loved his son, and he knew it was as hard on the boy as it was to him to be apart so much. He missed the first words, the first steps, the first everything. This, too, he would talk to Itachi about. Because that was what made it all worth it, to know that the little boy would have everything he needed growing up, and if he had to break his back working for it he'd do so gladly.

Looking back at it, that was probably the best his life would get… so why did he try so hard to forget? The answer stared back at him from the lifeless black eyes in the mirror. There is only one thing worse than daily enduring hardships, and that is knowing that it had been better once. That it could still have been that way, had he not messed up. So it was easier to forget that he ever was happy and just suffer his fate than to keep himself filled with pointless, misplaced hope.

But now he had to face it. Proof was standing in the middle of his living room and it wasn't going to go away on its own accord. He straightened up, no matter what, he was a man. He would deal with this the way he was supposed to and face it head on. Yes. Easy! Kisame turned on his heels and walked steadily out of the bathroom, only for his courage to sink back into his shoes at the sight of the red heel. Who was he trying to fool, really, it was all his own fault.

He'd broken the perfect spell himself, but what was he supposed to do? The pale little vixen was already in his head and now he was working his way into his heart also. But he couldn't stop it, when those arms reached for him he couldn't stop from grasping them. And when sweet lips pressed to his he had no more resistance. But then he shamed him. Itachi trusted him and he's shamed him, all over one stupid little kiss that meant more than anything he'd ever experienced. And then he was gone. His anchor was gone and he was thrown into the deep alone.

And all over a stupid little kiss that meant the world.


	3. Chapter Two

Genie In A Shoebox.

Chapter Two.

Kisame had trouble getting through the day, he came in late because of his morning reminiscence and had to work through his lunch break, but now he was determined. He spent the day thinking, something he hadn't done in a long time, and came to the conclusion he was done with the way things were. Right now his life had no meaning whatsoever. He hardly saw his son, the only conversations he had with his ex-wife were done shouting over the phone and after working all day and sleeping all night to regain his strength he was left with no time for himself to do anything.

Now it was night again, his shift had been grueling and when he walked past the closed shops this time his reflection scared him. He looked dead, squished empty like an old tube of toothpaste. Every day he walked past here he seemed to get older and weaker, but today was a new low. He couldn't focus on his work; all he could think about were all the memories that kept resurfacing after all these years. Instead of turning to his apartment he went the other way, to a neglected park he hadn't been or years. It would probably be full of junkies and people looking for trouble. But he had no money and no trouble to offer, besides, he couldn't go home anyway.

The shoe was there. And if he saw it he had to face it. Even after thinking about it nonstop for hours he still hadn't made himself face what he'd done. A stupid mistake it was; and the massive consequences it had on his life hadn't been fair. The street he was walking was completely empty, and for some reason it was comforting to walk from one street lantern to the next. A bright moment while he was under it, his shadow stretching out before him when he walked on, and then the dark part when he stepped out from under the light and hurried to the next.

He made it to the small park without even noticing and sat on a bench that looked over the pathetic display of carved-in tree trunks and a swing with one broken rope. There was nowhere to go now but into his own mind, and it was long overdue. He didn't want to think about where his life was going, how disappointed his parents must be with him and how his son must resent him. These things were all lost; there was nothing he could do to make things right with the people he hurt, even if he had the time and energy to try. The one thing he hoped he'd never ruin, seeing as everything else getting fucked up brought him there, was his friendship with Itachi. But that too had ended, out of the blue so many things had happened, some he caused, some he couldn't control. And the pale beauty disappeared without a trace.

He couldn't live like this anymore. It was fine that his life had no meaning, but he wanted to know why, why things ended the way they did. Maybe the shoe was a hint, something telling him to find closure, what did he have to lose really?

The bar was the same as he remembered it, even though he hadn't been there in years. The neon sign was still flickering like it had before, only a few letters died out and one was missing completely. He opened the door and stepped into the room filled with cigarette smoke. The bar was the same, the people were different. There was no dancing, no singing, no bright lights or laughter. The only working light bulb hung behind the bar where the bartender was lazily cleaning glasses, the furthest corner was shrouded in darkness completely. The booths and tables were filled with tired-looking old men, none sat together, all clutched a beer. A waitress far past her prime walked around in a skirt that was too short and heels that were too high, none of the men had interest in her, they hid behind their collars and hats, shutting out the world just like he did.

If he didn't do something to make his life worth living now he never would, and as far as he remembered this was the place the person he needed had been seen the last time.

He lowered himself onto a barstool and planted his elbows on the bar. His forehead hit the withered wood with a soft thump, and he breathed in a few lungfuls of smoke to muster up courage. Then he shoved his shame aside and called the bartender over. The man had a friendly face and large moustache, that didn't compensate for the lack of hair on his head. "What can I do ye for? Nice pint after a long day's work?" he shook his head. "No, actually, I came to ask you about someone I'm looking for." His voice came out as little more than a raspy whisper, he hadn't used it in so long, and it startled him. "Do you remember Itachi Uchiha? He used to work from here years ago, and he was a good friend of mine."

The bald man chuckled and shook his head. "Little frills had a lot of 'good friends', mate, but I couldn't tell you where he's at now. Even if I knew meself, now, how 'bout that pint?" the man nodded and walked off to pour the glass. "No please!" without even thinking Kisame grabbed the bartender's arm, then quickly let go. "It's not like that at all, you must remember, we sat outside in front of this bar talking every night for years. Did he never mention me?" The bartender furrowed his brow in thought until he suddenly seemed to remember something. "Ya wouldn't happen to be that Kisurmur fellow wouldya? Kid talked about him all the time" Itachi… talked about him?

Well that was something he hadn't expected, he'd shamefully hidden his relationship with the young man where he had been open about. Good going Kisame, go make yourself feel even more like an asshole.

"Yes! Yes, Kisame, that's me! Can you please tell me where he is?" "Well I don't know mate, what I remember the most is that he was really upset when he left, did you do something to him? Sweet boy that was, always polite, never caused any trouble." "I didn't do anything to him, I promise, I just need to find him." "Hmmmmm…" the other looked him up and down, then took a big pull on his cigar. He blew the smoke in Kisame's face, who didn't even blink. "Alright then, I guess you seem like a trustworthy fellow."

Raindrops tapped on the bus' large window in a rhythmic manner that tried to lull Kisame into a deep sleep. He spent all his money on the ticket, money he'd intended to buy a new duvet with, winter was coming, and it was going to be a long one. But it was alright, even if Itachi never wanted to see him again, he needed closure. And who knows? Maybe there might be a chance their friendship could be rekindled. He left for the bus station as soon as he got his directions, so it was pitch black out. But the drive was a long one and aside from an old woman and a young man with his hood pulled far over his eyes the vehicle was mostly empty.

The only leads the bartender had given him were the town his long lost friend was supposedly residing in now and a bar in that town whose waitress was his sister, so she might have some further directions for him there. It was a shot in the dark, but he was willing to take the risk. All he'd brought was his thick black coat and a plastic bag with the shoebox that now held two shoes. Somehow the other shoe had ended up on the 'memorial shelf' in the bar, and he was allowed to take it. They were still in the condition they were in when he bought them thirteen years ago.

0

"For me? Oh Kisame you shouldn't have!" Itachi, who'd just turned seventeen, shuffled around awkwardly on the heels. "I thought you might like them… I could give you the receipt so you can return them if you don't like them…" "What!" the young raven spun around to face his friend and ended up tripping over himself and falling down in a heap. Not on the street of course, the elder of the two would never let his little beauty get hurt in his presence. Itachi giggled as thick arms tried to lift him back onto his feet, but he refused to stand. "So that's how tonight's gonna be huh." Kisame murmured under his breath before he used one arm to sweep the pale boy off his feet and into bridal position. Then he sat down on his usual spot with the other in his lap.

"I didn't know you were the present-giving kind?" big eyes even darker than his own looked up to him combined with a big grin. "Well, I figured they suit you. Do you like them at all?" Itachi nodded and rested his head against the other's chest, then he positioned Kisame's arms around him the way he liked it. "I've never gotten a present before…"

After that they just sat in silence for a while, both content with not doing much of anything. At some point everyone runs out of conversatory subjects, and then it's important to find other things to do. Such as cuddle. Or play around. Or have one person run away on heels and the other chase them while being very pissed off that his coat was stolen. But Itachi was too comfortable to be difficult, it was always like that. As soon as he made his way into his dark guardian's embrace there was no place on earth he'd rather be, even if his feet were freezing off and his skirt got wrinkled beyond salvation. A wet something landed on his bare leg, and another, and then many more. Rain, lovely.

Usually this was the moment at which Kisame went home and he had to face the rest of the night alone, not that he'd ever complain about that, he was glad the man came to see him at all. So with a sigh he sat up, but wasn't let go. He shot Kisame a questioning look, and the older man grinned and conjured up an umbrella seemingly out of nowhere. "Weather forecast said it was going to rain… or do you really have to go already?" "No, I've got time. I've always got time for you." Kisame zipped open his large black coat, the one he secretly bought in a few sizes too big for situations like this, and took Itachi's shoes off to keep them dry in his equally large pockets.

When the pale boy pulled his knees up against his chest and pressed himself tight against the other they managed to zip the coat up without any toes sticking out. Itachi's elbow was pressed against Kisame's ribcage so to get it out of the way he wrapped that arm around the man's side. He in turn stuck the umbrella in his armpit so it would shield them without him having to hold it. And so they sat and did nothing for a while, just like before.

Itachi was becoming increasingly more aware of the difference this position held to their normal ones. The warmth of the man's skin seeped through his flimsy grey t-shirt without anything blocking it like usual, it felt like he was enveloped by heat, and he loved it. He also never really noticed how they fit perfectly, his face just came up high enough to fit in the crook of the other's neck while he was comfortably seated on massively thick thighs. What stunned him the most though, was the man's scent. He spent a lot of time close to men, but none smelled quite like this. A deep, warm scent that made his insides tingle with every breath. The scent of a real man, a hardworking, honest man who'd never hurt him and would probably walk halfway across the globe should he ask him to. The man he's been madly in love with since the first week they spent together.

He could feel Kisame press his face into his hair and gathered the courage to ask a question that's been plaguing his mind for months. "Kisame… our friendship isn't normal, is it?" "Hmm, I guess not. But our situation isn't really normal either, is it? Does it bother you how things are?" he could feel Itachi shake his head. "No, not at all actually. But wouldn't you rather spend your time with someone else?" "What, like my wife? 'Tachi, I explained that to you before, I love her about as much as I can love diarrhea, and she loves me like she loves getting repeatedly shot in the face. I'd like to spend more time with Suigetsu sure, but Konan will be there too and pick an argument with me and you know how short a fuse I have."

Itachi shifted around so he could face him, "You say that, but I've never actually seen you angry." "Course not! You're too lovely for me to ever get mad at, and she just rubs me the wrong way, permanently and far too hard." They've had this conversation many times, and Itachi never got the answer he really wanted to the question that really mattered. "I actually meant a love interest, isn't there anyone you like?" "Why do you want to know?" "I just want to make sure I stay your top priority… that's all." Kisame let out a laugh at that, "Silly 'Tachi, of course you'll always be my top priority, above _everyone_ else. Now stop squirming around, your knee is in my rib."

Itachi couldn't help himself, he asked that question at least once a week, and always got the same answer. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he chose to believe it meant what he wanted it to. And in a moment where he'd completely lost his mind he pressed his lips against a dark, weathered cheek. Then he quickly pressed his face in the other's neck and wrapped both his arms around him in case he went too far this time and his 'friend' had enough.

But Kisame only held him closer.

0

By the time the bus arrived at his destination Kisame was already pretty well rested from his nap, though it was still dark out. He almost fell off the little step when he left the bus, having forgotten how the thing worked after not using public transportation for so long. He didn't even know the name of this town, just the bus stop, but it looked pretty shady. As soon as he entered the first street he felt the ominous atmosphere surround him like the presence of something that tried to stray him from his path. Not that he would let it. He followed the directions the barman had given him and slowly made his way through the maze of buildings. Never had he seen more bars, nightclubs and brothels in one place. For some reason he hoped the one he sought for didn't work in any of them. After a while he found the place he was looking for, probably the only bar that didn't have a bright neon sign alerting everyone to its location. Instead it had a wooden sign that covered the entire front of the store, the matte glass windows didn't show what was going on inside, but the sounds coming from inside were music to his ears, this place was alive.

As soon as he entered a young woman in a maid outfit so tight her chest was practically popping out rushed up to him and fluttered around him until he sat down at a table in the corner. "Can I get you anything? _Anything_?" There was nothing she could offer him that he was interested in, though some alcohol might ease his mind, he had no money left anyway. So he just asked to speak to the contact he was looking for. She looked disappointed but walked off to ask for him anyway, giving him a chance to look around. Much like the bar back home this one was filled with old men, except these were perving over the many young maid waitresses.

The one from before came back to his table and motioned for him to follow her, so he stood and followed her into the hallway on the other side of the large room. There were many doors in that hallway, with creepy noises coming from behind every one. At the end there were stairs leading up to another door. His escort knocked and a creaky voice yelled a come in, at which the young woman opened the door and closed it behind him without going in herself. "So." The woman that sat behind the heavy oak desk in the middle of the scarcely furnished room spoke. "My brother just called me up to tell me a lost little puppy was looking for a certain someone. It just so happens that I know where he is."

In two steps Kisame was at the desk and slammed his palms down on it. "You know? Tell me! Please, I need to know!" she scoffed and leaned back in her chair. Her hair was greying and pulled up in a tight bun at the back of her head. She wore no make-up on her wrinkled face but had a thick pearl necklace hanging around her neck. She wore a white blouse and he whole appearance didn't seem to match the kind of facility she was obviously running. "Not so fast young man, why should I give this information to you? We like the boy, he's so well-mannered and respectful, why should I risk his safety by telling you this, I don't even know you." "You want to know who I am?" "Yes." "You want to know what I want with him?" "Yes." "Fine then."

An excruciating half hour later he told most of his history to the woman, it was hard, he himself had forgotten most of it. Only bits and pieces floated around in his mind, but he was surprised how much he could remember if he tried a little. He left out the embarrassing and personal parts, but told her enough for her to get the whole picture.

"Well, that's a very interesting story, but what does it have to do with you being here?" Indeed, what did it have to do with him being here? "I hate the way we ended things, and I just want a chance to talk to him, to make it right." She understood, having once been a young woman herself, she left many things unfinished herself. "Alright then, I'll tell you where he is, but first you must do something for me…"

"What's your name again?" Kisame asked the girl walking next to him on the slippery sidewalk, it seemed it had been raining here too. "It's none of your business, you just walk me home and shut up, I'm tired." She wore a long dark coat over her costume and had purple bags under her eyes no concealer could hide. She looked at her watch and he caught a glimpse of it too, two in the morning already, he hoped his raven would still be up… though he himself had nothing against a good night's sleep. They reached the girl's house with no trouble whatsoever and she quickly entered, closed the door and opened it again on the chain. "Alright, you held up your end of the deal, I will hold up mine. He works at the piano bar on Cley's street. Just follow the road and make a left, it's right there."

He wanted to thank her, but she'd already shut the door. "Okay…" he turned and started to the bar, he's visited a lot of them tonight. Now that he was alone again he had to fight to not let his fear win him over, there was no way he was turning back now. Not after all this trouble. But he had no idea on what to say, or how to act, what to do at all. What if Itachi didn't want to see him? What if he'd be sent away without ever clearing the air between them? He entered the place on auto pilot and skimmed through the guests and waiters quickly, he was not among them. He walked up to the bartender, again one with a large moustache, and asked about it. The man pointed at the one place he'd overlooked, the piano.

0

"Do you love me?" Big black eyes were looking up at him like they did every so often in the past six years. "Why?" "I want to know, do you love me?" "Sure I do." Itachi huffed and leaned against the brick wall they always hung out against. "What's wrong now?" "That wasn't convincing at all." Kisame chuckled and walked up to the raven, trapping him between his arms. "What do you want me to say then?" Itachi rolled his eyes. "Words are meaningless, I want you to prove it." "And how would I do that?" the other smiled and put his hands on the larger male's chest, slowly sliding them up till they reached around his neck. "Like this." And before Kisame could make a single move soft red lip were pressed against his own.

Itachi pulled back, but he couldn't say anything to the raven. Words were stuck in his throat, which was clogging up. He tried to swallow but couldn't. The younger one kissed him again, and he was frozen in his place. Then again, and again. First they were hesitant, shy even. But when he wasn't stopped Itachi grew bolder, and pulled the man flush against himself. A low, needy moan escaped the now twenty-two year old male's throat, and it snapped Kisame out of his daze. He grabbed the other by his shoulders and held him at an arm's length. But only for a moment, and when he saw the sliver of hope surrounded by vast clouds of doubt in Itachi's eyes he pulled the other against himself and kissed him like he hadn't kissed anyone in fifteen years.

The raven immediately clung to him, making them loose their balance so Kisame pushed the smug little bastard up against the wall, all the while their lips never parted. Until his phone rang. "No, not now fucking god." He untangled himself from the other with some trouble and answered it. Afterwards he looked Itachi over, who seemed defeated. "Konan?" the raven asked. "Yes. I need to go." "Sure." He turned to walk away, but Itachi grabbed his shoulder and turned him around in a desperate attempt to stay in the moment and reached up to kiss him again. The call had sobered him up though, so Kisame turned away and the lips landed on his jaw. "I'll see you around Itachi."

How could he have known that would be the last time he saw him.

0

Kisame walked up towards the black grand piano, but a few feet away his shoes seemed to be filled with lead when he could make out a thin frame playing the keys. The long black hair that was pulled back into a long ponytail had lost its shine, but was unmistakably his. The pale white fingers working the ivory keys left no doubt in his mind, and after a few moments he managed to force the words from his throat.

"Itachi?"

His long lost friend froze in mid-play, and slowly turned his head to face him. The man was as pale as he's always been, and his eyes grew wide as saucers at seeing the one that spoke to him.

"Kisame?"


	4. Chapter Three

Genie In A Shoebox.

Chapter Three.

For a moment the both of them stood frozen. How were you supposed to react when you see the person that was once the world to you after so many years of separation? Kisame wanted to reach out and make sure he was really there, that this wasn't some dream. It was unrealistic enough to be. Itachi stared at him like he was a ghost come back from the dead, and that was probably what he looked like. The pale man hadn't changed that much, he was still thin and beautiful, but there were tired lines under his eyes now. He looked like it'd been too long since he smiled.

"Itachi" he finally managed to choke out, but he had no idea what to say. Suddenly Itachi had both his hands placed on the other's cheeks and looked deep into the now shorter man's eyes, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders for so long eventually gifts you a crooked spine. Though he was shorter now, the dark-skinned male was still at least a foot taller than the other. Somehow their differences felt familiar. "Kisame, is that really you?" All he could do was nod, and when Itachi smiled he felt a surge of life in his heart he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Is everything alright here?" A large man in a tux showed up beside them, obviously targeting his question at Itachi, though his eyes never left the ruffled stranger. Kisame felt a lump forming in his throat when Itachi answered the man with that same beautiful smile while his eyes were starting to tear up. "Yes, everything is going to be okay now."

The younger of the two took Kisame's hands in his own and took him to sit at one of the red-velour covered booths. For a while they just sat across from each other without saying anything, both were searching for the right words. Eventually Itachi decided to just ask the question that had been plaguing his mind for eight years now, the one question he needed the answer to before he could ever get over anything. "Why did you leave me? I loved you." The answer was not what he expected. "I didn't."

Suddenly Itachi's mood changed. "You didn't? After you left me for you wife that night I waited three weeks. _Three weeks_, Kisame! You never showed! How can you sit here, and tell me that bullshit? You tell me you love me, that I'm your number one priority, but you can just up and leave me and never come back? OH! Until now, of course, eight freaking years later." All the love and hope the younger man's eyes shone with at first recognition were gone, the cold black orbs seemed to pierce right through him now. So Kisame did the only thing he could think of doing; he put his plastic bag on the table, took out the shoebox and handed it to the other.

Itachi opened it, and at seeing the red lacquer heels it contained his eyes seemed to drop a hundred degrees in coldness. "So that's it. That's why you came here. To give me this?" Kisame nodded. "FUCK YOU!" Itachi stood with incredible speed, and before the older man could even blink in confusion a fist had been smashed into his face with amazing strength, effectively breaking his nose. "What the hell!" Kisame spluttered while he covered his face with both hands to try and stop the blood spraying from his nostrils. Itachi sat down and handed him some tissues.

"Maybe you should go home." His voice was ice. At this point Kisame couldn't help himself anymore, everything was going so wrong, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. He didn't even try to stop the tears that were making their way through the blood on his face. The pure hatred in the eyes that were staring at him got the words stuck in his throat again, but he had to say them. "I have nowhere to go, you… you are my home. And I want to come back." His hands shook while he pressed the white tissues to his face, after uttering those words and seeing no change in the other it felt like his body lost all strength.

"Shut the fuck up. You walk in here, telling me you did nothing wrong, and throwing the longest, darkest nightmare I ever experienced and was finally starting to forget back in my face. Just tell me why. Please just tell me why. When have I ever given you reasons to hate me so much?" The anger drained from the pale man's feature, and left him looking tired, so very tired. Life had been unkind to both of them. All of a sudden Itachi too began to softly cry, "Why must you hurt me so? You were supposed to be the one… the _one_…" is what Kisame deciphered from the sniffles; he stuffed the tissues up his nose and stood.

Itachi looked up for a second. "Yeah, go away. I was fine before you came along…" the older man left his side of the booth and sat down on the other side, next to the other. "Look." Kisame took of his coat, turned his back to the other and pulled up his large t-shirt. Itachi wiped his eyes, and gasped in horror at the sight of the countless long, white scars littering the black back. "What happened?" he whispered when the other turned back to him. Kisame cleaned his blood-stained hands on his trousers and wiped the tears from the love of his life's gaunt face. "The morning after I left you that night there was an accident at the factory. One of the men I work with saw us together and taunted me with the more _intimate_ knowledge he had on you, which he paid for. I tried to ignore him but he wouldn't stop, so I shoved him. And when he shoved me back I slipped on something and… fell into the waste disposal. Which is basically a large grinder." He explained when he finally found the courage to speak.

Itachi didn't say anything, so he continued. "I didn't die, obviously, but it was a close call. They kept me in an artificial coma for over a month, and after that it took about half a year before I was able to walk again… I tried to find you, Itachi, I really did." He plucked the soaked tissues from his face, after which Itachi reached up and pressed his nose back in its original place. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" "I tried, trust me I tried… but when I finally returned to the world of the living I was behind on so much rent and child support I had a hard time finding time to eat and sleep besides work." He reached out to tuck a strand of long black hair behind the other's ear and wasn't stopped. When the big black eyes looked up at him again a sliver of hope had reappeared in them and Kisame smiled.

"So… you really didn't leave me…" "Of course not… you'd practically become my reason for living at that point." He scooted a little closer, how unreal that he was this close to someone that had seemed so far away and unreachable to him only hours before. "But you did leave… why are you so mad that I brought the shoes?" he truly didn't understand. Itachi looked at him as if he was insane. "Those heels are the embodiment of my former profession, and you know that, why else did you bring them?" His voice was wavering and he tried to look mad, to stop himself from feeling the spark of hope for a better tomorrow this man always seemed to ignite in him.

In all honest reality he didn't want to talk, he didn't want to fight or fix or anything. He wanted to be picked up in those big arms and carried away to wherever. To be held and loved and kept safe like before. But he didn't say it. He couldn't. Kisame really seemed confused by his statement. "I thought… I gave them to you. That had nothing to do with your profession or anything, you were so happy when you first tried them on and you always took such good care of them. I thought they meant something to you or whatever, I don't know, I didn't think about it. You know me." He did know him, long ago. Had it really been so long that he'd forgotten that this man wasn't as fucked up and mean as all the others? That a gift was just a gift to him, a kind gesture. But he wasn't there to make all the bad memories that were now tied to them, the horrible things his person had to undergo while wearing those heels.

"Why did you leave, Itachi, I wasn't the reason you worked there so why?" "hold me" Kisame blinked and his pale companion blushed, he didn't intend to say that… but before he had time to regret his own blabbering mouth he was wrapped up in an embrace so soothing and familiar it felt like heaven. He balled his fist in the other's grimy shirt and finally poured his heart out, "Every day I had to work I wanted to die. Every single day. The only thing that made the nights bearable was the time I spent with you. Do you remember the night we met?" Kisame nodded. "That was the first night I ever worked, I actually contemplating giving you my virginity within half an hour of meeting you. Just because you were kind to me. You were the first man ever to be nice to me, but too much money was being offered for me to be able to do that. I didn't sell myself by my choice, I don't know what you thought of me, but it was never what I wanted."

Kisame lifted the other up, surprised by his own strength, and placed him sideways on his lap. "Do you mind?" he whispered into the soft, obsidian curtain of hair. "No." was the whispered answer, and Itachi hid his face in the other's neck while he was perfectly happy in his little cocoon of the past. "When you didn't show," he continued as whisper, "I thought you were disgusted by me. Because I tried to kiss you, but I was so confused, you can try and tell me anything, but I know you kissed me back. You wanted that too. Right?" Kisame nodded again. "But I figured you wanted to try with Konan again or whatever, and I just couldn't do it anymore. Whenever I had to meet a client all I could think about was ending their miserable lives so they wouldn't ever be able to put their hands on me again. Three weeks later I just couldn't do it anymore. The owner of this piano bar is an old friend of mine, so I called him asking for a job. I've been playing nights here ever since. It's a decent life; I've got a room upstairs so I'm doing pretty well."

"You really got your shit figured out huh? Is there any room for me in your new life?" Itachi looked up at him. "Don't joke about that." Kisame pulled his hands up in defence, "Sorry! Sorry, I just thought that if you were on your own and had any room to spare…" The other sat up angrily. "I'm telling you not to joke about this. Do you have any idea how it makes me feel to see you again like this? After hating you for so many years and then finally hearing that you didn't stick me up?" "I'm sorry. I won't joke about it okay? I hate my job and I hate my life, but if you don't want anything to do with me then I'm just glad we cleared all this up and I'll be leaving in a bit."

Itachi slipped off the other's lap and crossed his arms. "Why do you have to be like that? If you don't want to be here just say so but don't make a fool out of me." Kisame had never been more confused in his life. "What is it that you want then? Because I want nothing more than to stay here with you." Itachi turned to him angrily and raised his voice, "I want you to stay here, love me and hold me forever!" "If we want the same thing then what the hell are we fighting over?" Kisame's companion stared at him for a minute before speaking again. "You weren't joking?" "No." Itachi crawled back onto his lap and wrapped his arms around the other's neck. "Does that mean I can kiss you and you won't get any interrupting calls?" "Babe I don't even own a cell phone anymore."

When Kisame felt the soft lips pressed to his own it made him feel like he'd finally had a drink of water after being stuck in a desert for far too long. His arms found their way around a slender waist and the other's trembling fingers were plucking at the fabric on his shoulders. He felt the sharp gusts of air being breathed from the others nose on his face, indicating that he must be just a nervous as he himself was feeling. While the soft mouth worked against and with his own Kisame couldn't help but marvel at his luck, who'd have thought that things would end up this way? He was holding his love, kissing him even! And nothing was going to interrupt that… except from the consistent tapping on his left shoulder and the person scraping their throat next to them.

With some unwilling effort he managed to dislodge himself from the powerful suction on his face and turned to see who was bothering them. "Mr Uchiha, would you mind clearing out these booths for costumers and taking your personal business upstairs?" a grim-looking man asked them. "Yes, of course, no problem!" Itachi then proceeded to push Kisame out of the booth, grab his hand and lead him up the stairs. Kisame had the mind to grab his coat, and when he looked back it appeared as if every patron and member of staff was staring at him as if he were some sort of alien.

At the top of the stair was a hallway with about a dozen identical doors with numbers on them. Itachi pulled out the key to one of them and opened it. "It's not very big but there's a separate bathroom and kitchen, _and_ a king-size bed-oof!" And Kisame was sure he'd be very interested in looking at all that when he didn't have a certain Mr Uchiha pinned to the hard wood of the door at that moment. Itachi wanted to reach up and kiss him, but was a little bit to stuck to move. So instead he whispered the other's name in the most seductive tone he could muster, and looked up with a towering need in his eyes. But Kisame wanted to play with his little trapped prey a little bit more, and ever so slowly opened the top few buttons on the Uchiha's white dress-shirt. He then pulled the sleeve off one shoulder and moved the black strands of hair out of the way before attacking the long pale neck with soft and hard kisses, drawing more than a soft moan from the neck's owner.

He kept the male in place with one large hand on his side, and used the other to undo Itachi's belt buckle and pants, before his pale beauty got his wits together enough to ask what was going on he was being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Meanwhile Kisame, like the sneaky bastard he was at heart, managed to slip a hand down the back of his lover's pants and grabbed a firm hold of one of the globes. Itachi gasped, he couldn't think. He was being crushed by a hard, warm, familiar body and he loved it. He was kissing the big man pressed against him and being kissed and rubbed and touched everywhere and he loved it and never wanted it to end.

While he was losing himself in the embrace as well Kisame still managed to skilfully peel every last piece of clothing off his lover, who didn't seem to notice much until he was being held up against the wall without being kissed for a moment. At which point he realised he was butt-naked and immediately shut off the light. Kisame cleared his throat. "It's a little dark here." "I'm nude." "Yes, I know, I took great pleasure in undressing you." Kisame let his hands roam over the, now invisible, soft skin of the other's sides and back. Itachi grabbed his hands and stilled them, then pushed the other off him and lead him to the bedroom. This room was gently lit by the curtains that let some of the streetlight through, but only enough to cast vague shadows.

Itachi pressed himself against his large lover and kissed him. Immediately the big, calloused hands were on him again and it made him shiver. "Are you cold?" he shook his head and slipped his hands under Kisame's shirt, lifting it up and over his head. In the dark the pants took a little fumbling, especially now that there was a certain something taking up more room that it usually did under all these administrations. But soon enough they were both naked as the day they were born, Itachi let himself fall back onto the bed and pulled the other with him, on him.

Kisame grabbed both of Itachi's wrists in one hand and pinned him down, before turning on the lamp on the nightstand. "No! Turn that off, I don't want it!" Itachi immediately started struggling and twisting to get out of the other's hold. "Not until you tell me why you don't want to see me." Itachi stilled and he blushed deeply. "It's not that I don't want to see you, you look… well…" he blushed even deeper and looked away. "I don't want you to see me. I'm not eighteen anymore, okay? I'm thirty. My body isn't what it used to be…"

Kisame sat up a bit to get a better look at the source of his lover's embarrassment, his body. The man's skin hung a little looser and the hard abs were replaced with a couple little rolls, his bum wasn't as firm as it used to be and his love handles were very busy being there. His legs were less toned, as was everything else. "What exactly is supposed to be wrong with this body of yours?" he asked while he rolled them over a few times to the other side of the bed, away from the accursed lamp. "Don't play with me, Kisame." "Yes, because I'm still as hot as I was twenty years ago, baby my looks were gone before you even hit your prime. Do you dislike my body?"

Itachi ran his hands over the other man's broad shoulders and through his thinning hair and shook his head. "I love it" he whispered. Kisame kissed his lover, hard, and ran his hands all over the silky-smooth pale skin. "I yours too. So am I going to have to get dressed and catch the last bus home or is this light staying on?" Itachi pulled the man against himself and kissed him. "It can stay on."


End file.
